


safety

by jcpping



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, My First Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27673130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcpping/pseuds/jcpping
Summary: i have never written smut but i love oikawa tooru. originally posted on tumblr
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	safety

you can still recall the first time that you met oikawa tooru, the crown prince of your home country’s top ally; it was a memory that was still as clear, still as plain as day in your mind now twelve years later, as it had been the hours, days, or even weeks after it had actually happened. that little boy had effectively stolen your heart and dominated your mind that day, and still had yet to release his grasp on you — you hoped that he never would, too.

“oikawa tooru,” he had stated, his voice lilted as if he simultaneously had nothing and everything to prove. he took your outstretched hand and kissed the back of it, just as he had practiced over and over again with his mother, his queen, in the days leading up to the ball. he looked like something out of a picture book, with perfectly ironed and pressed slacks, medals that shined like they had _just_ been polished and clipped to his jacket (they were shiny, but still couldn’t compare to his eyes), exquisite epaulettes, and chestnut hair that had been neatly combed back. his looks were an impressive for a fourteen-year-old, much less an eight-year-old. judging by the smirk that tugged at his lips as you scanned over him, he knew it, too. “i don’t quite like dancing, so do you want to go wander the gardens?”  


you, on the other hand, _loved_ dancing. the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you was one that you loved to get drunk on, even if you sparsely could indulge. your country wasn’t like the one that tooru hailed from; it was large, yes, but was still easily overtaken by its much larger neighbor and, thus, it had become customary to merely attend rather than throw balls and galas. it was disappointing to say the least, but perhaps for the best. after all, you weren’t next in line for the throne in your country — who would be keeping an eye on you? it would be best to not delude yourself. maybe, in time, you’d find someone to dance with. for now, you just silently nod and allow tooru to help you from your chair and lead you toward the gardens, the music growing quieter with every few steps farther from the ballroom.

“you’re y/n, right?” you nod again and tooru sighs. “you can speak with me, y’know. actually, no — _please_ speak with me.”  


that gets a small laugh out of you, which causes the brunet to turn and look at you, a smile growing on his own face when he sees the one on yours. the two of you had grown up with different rules, being of different genders, but having him ask something of _you?_ it was... endearing. incredibly so. “how would your father react if he had witnessed this exchange?”

“he would likely beat me.” you pause, waiting for the punchline or for a laugh to erupt from tooru, but none comes. you inhale sharply, stopping in the middle of the corridor, holding him back when he attempts to try and continue walking. you don’t fail to notice how his cheeks have flushed and you squeeze his hand.  


your words come out softly, though you hope that you don’t sound especially pitying. “oh, tooru...” it’s strange how apt he was to open up to you; he could get himself in a lot of trouble if you were to run off and report back to your parents that their friend, the king, was hurting his own child. what if the tabloids got ahold of this information and ran with it? you have to wonder why he was so willing to trust you, but when you notice that he’s shaking, you step closer, looping your arms around one of his and beckoning him forward. “we have really pretty gardens on our grounds, but i’m sure _nothing_ compares to what is offered here. everything is so much nicer here.”  


you give him another squeeze as he continues to walk you through the castle, leaning in a little closer. “especially the people.”

the castle is much larger in pictures than it is in person, because after a few minutes of walking, silence and staggered one-sided conversations that you hold every now and then weaving between one another, you arrive at the entrance to the gardens. it’s cooler than it’s been in the past few months thanks the impending change of seasons, but it isn’t unbearable. you part from tooru almost immediately, eyes widening as you attempt to soak up every flower petal, every leaf, and every blade of grass of the perfectly-manicured gardens that were laid out in front of you. tooru stands next to you, hands stuffed in the pockets of his slacks, afraid to look up — afraid that he had spoken out of turn with you and, once he looks up, he’ll be met with his father instead of the sweet girl who’d coerced him into introducing his demons right off the bat.

you’re nearly vibrating, running your palms against the surface of every shrub, grazing every flower petal with the tip of your index finger, crouching down to inspect every single inch of the garden; you’ve nearly taken off on your own when you remember who had brought you here and you turn back, pulling off one of your gloves and holding your hand out for tooru. the display of “indecency,” as his mother often put it, gets his attention. he finally looks up, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks becoming level with your own eyes, glinting like stars, and cheeks, dusted with an exquisite pink. lips parted, he takes your hand, fingers lacing with yours.

it takes a little while, but soon, tooru is walking you around the garden, identifying every plant that he can (and making up names for the ones that he can’t). he attempts to apologize to you near the lavender field but you shake your head, talking over him about how lavender oil was always dumped into your nighttime baths in order to help induce sleep. the gesture takes him off guard, but it makes him realize that a _lot_ of things about you took him off guard. the feeling of having your hand, soft and bare, in his is one that he wouldn’t trade for anything, no matter how untraditional — taboo, even, for royals like yourselves — it was.

when the clock tower in the middle of the garden begins to chime, it signals that it’s time for the two of you to return. as you begin to pull your glove back on, tooru takes your hand. “y/n,” he starts, shifting on the bench so that he’s facing you, eyes locked on yours. “you... i think it would be very easy for me to fall in love with you.”

he leans in to kiss your cheek. your eyes close at the contact and reopen once he’s pulled away, but then you grab his face with both hands, pulling him back in for a _real_ kiss. it doesn’t last longer than three seconds (you counted), but you think that it’s enough to get your point across. you and tooru reenter the castle hand-in-hand, and only when he’s approached by one of the butlers do the two of you return to the ballroom. you remain with your siblings until the end of the event, but you look over at tooru every chance that you get; he’s always already looking at you. upon taking your leave, you offer a curtesy and tooru kisses your hand once more, secretly wishing that you could’ve taken your glove off just for him.

had it not been wrong of him, he would’ve much preferred giving you a kiss on the lips instead.

“what’re you wearing this year?” tooru doesn’t look up from his worksheet, but you notice that the tips of his ears have flushed and so you smirk. he had such a _charming_ way about him — he always said what he wanted outright, but not without a pinch of embarrassment to accompany.  


“orange,” you hum, leaning back in your chair, capping your pen and admiring your work. sure, latin _was_ a dead language, but in exchange of the lifestyle you were afforded for having royal blood, you were expected to cram your brain with as much knowledge as possible, dead languages included. you were just lucky that latin classes gave you an excuse to travel to see tooru once a week.  


tooru scoffs. “ _orange?_ seriously? i can’t wear orange!”

“well, who suggested that you were going to?” you’re teasing, of course; you’d known oikawa tooru for more years than you hadn’t at this point. you knew when he was trying to be discrete. when he asked what you were wearing, he really meant to find out what he needed to _coincidentally_ wear to ensure that the two of you were matching. riling him up had become a beloved past time of yours, though, and that was something he hadn’t _quite_ caught on to yet.  


“how else am i to indicate who my heart belongs to?” this time, it’s your time to scoff, your eyes rolling. he ignores you, though, quickly looking around the room and checking the doors before leaning in across the table and stealing a kiss. your eyes widen and you push him away, scooting your seat farther from the table. “oh, don’t deprive me! i’m still a man at the end of the day.”  


“you’re _seventeen,_ oikawa tooru. practically a child.” but still, your cheeks flush and you focus your gaze out of the classroom window. it’d already been nine years since your first meeting with tooru. nine years since he’d reached into your ribcage, removed your beating heart, and replaced it with his. nine years since the two of you had decided to spend the rest of your lives with one another — secretly, though, of course. whereas the status of your betrothed didn’t matter, the same couldn’t be said of tooru. as per monarchical rules, the king and queen should’ve begun looking for a suitable partner on the day of tooru’s seventeenth birthday. the only thing that either of you could do was wait with bated breath and love one another in secret.  


he reaches across the table, taking your hand and lacing your fingers with his. “you didn’t say such things when we consuma—”

“oikawa tooru!” you hiss, head snapping in his direction. he merely laughs, shameless in his many advances toward you. the two of you were like yin and yang; whenever you attempted to widen the gap, to cushion the fall that you’d inevitably have to withstand, he always made sure to take strides and close the distance once again. it was infuriating in every sense of the word, but you still slept well at night knowing that he was _your_ tooru, even if it wouldn’t be that way forever (even though he promised you the contrary every opportunity that he was able to seize).  


the both of you jump in your seats at the sound of the classroom door opening, his hand recoiling faster than the speed of light and you picking up your pen, resuming your studying. the man who walks in first is the family’s head butler, causing you and tooru both to stand. you bow deeply at the queen’s presence but she beckons you up, caressing your cheek before turning her attention to her son. “hello, tooru. studying well?”

“yes, mother.”  


the tone of his voice causes you to shutter. it’s cold, emotionless, robotic; it’s years and years of emotional and physical abuse at the hands of the king, his wife serving as a bystander. such is information that you shouldn’t know, but the idea of making tooru face his parents alone, without you there to kiss his bruises and console him, is something you can’t even tolerate in the form of nightmares.

“that’s well. y/n, excuse us for a moment.”  


your stomach drops at the words and you don’t miss the flash of fear that appears in tooru’s eyes, but you can only watch helplessly as he follows his mother out of the room. this couldn’t be happening right now — tooru said that his father _never_ dared to do anything when you were visiting, lest you not know how to hold your tongue. you collapse back in your chair, nearly hyperventilating. do you follow them out? do you intervene? doing either could be catastrophic to you, to tooru, and could run the risk of liquidating your countries’ relationships. but still, you couldn’t just sit around. could you wander around, pretending to find a washroom? would that even make sense given how many times you’d been a visitor to the castle?

“don’t fret, miss. the king is out for the day.” the voice belongs to the butler, who stares at the wall instead of at you, smiling so widely that his eyes have become crescents. “and m’lady doesn’t partake in such... things.”  


it does little to soothe you, but it does enough for the time that you spend waiting alone. you stand back up when tooru reenters, but he’s alone this time, prompting the butler to scurry out after the queen. there are no visible bruises, true to the butler’s words, but the look on tooru’s face is far graver. your face twists in concern while he slumps down in his chair, his head in his hands.

“they’ve chosen my betrothed.”  


the words catalyze ice in your veins, and you’re numbing quickly. “s-so soon?” he nods, and you swallow thickly, trying your best to offer him a smile. “well... we knew this was coming, right? we anticipated this. it’s... did they tell you who it is?” he shakes his heads this time and you sigh, letting your head fall so that your temple can rest on the table. tooru was getting ripped right from your hands. you can only hope that the cool tabletop was enough to keep you grounded in this moment.

arranged marriages had become antiquated, but they were still prominent in societies such as the one that you and tooru existed in. they were always politically-driven, and you’d _never_ heard of an arranged marriage that had resulted in happiness for either party. in tooru’s case, though, there’d likely be three unhappy individuals: his bride, him, and, undoubtedly, _you._

“that’s alright. it’ll be okay, tooru. this... it’s — this is what’s best for you, right?”  


he only nods.

“y/n, please... i _beg_ of you to let me in.” tooru sits at the door to your chamber, back pressed against the oak surface, his head snapping up every now and then to serve as a knock. anymore traditional knocking and his knuckles would’ve begun to bleed.  


your sobs are enough to drown out his pleas. you hug your pillow tighter to your chest and sniffle, attempting to slow down your cries, but then you remember why you were crying in the first place and the tears promptly resume. tooru’s chest tightens as he listens to you cry, wanting nothing more than to stifle your anguish — if throwing himself into the sea and allowing himself to sink would make you smile again, he would do so. but before that, he _needs_ you to know that he loves you. he loves you, he loves you, and _god,_ he loves you. he’ll make sure that you know of this information before he departs.

_“they’re announcing oikawa tooru’s betrothed at any moment, y/n.” your older sister set down her mug after taking a slow sip of coffee, watching you shuffle into the dining room. she knows that she isn’t offering any breaking news; you’d likely had the date circled on your calendar. “has he told you who is it?”_  


_“no,” you sigh, sliding into the seat next to her and reaching forward for the orange juice pitcher. “_ _we don’t... we_ didn’t _speak of such things.”  
_

_she responds with something between a scoff and a laugh, but you only shoot her a glare, the two of you falling into silence, the only sounds being the tinkering of utensils or the ticking of the grandfather clock. your parents had visited in celebration of the announcement and had promised to offer congratulations in your place, since you were feeling under the weather (or, rather, until the large rock that had been dropped on you once tooru explained he could no longer see you)._

_“don’t fret.” your sister sighs, standing up to leave you alone with your food. “just... don’t fret, okay?” she squeezes your shoulder as she passes you and you feel your shoulders sag even more, fighting the urge to cry even as you feel the prickling sensation spread across your body — a familiarity nowadays.  
_

_the minutes become hours, and the entire days feels like a blur. you eat every now and then, study, read, wander the gardens; you do whatever you can to take your mind off of tooru, off of how he’d probably gotten engaged to some pretty blonde from the east kingdom or some dame with silky hair from another ally country. you sit in the far corner of the gardens, knees tucked to your chest, soaking in the warmth of the sun while the vines of jealousy begin to constrict your heart._

_did his betrothed know that you were his first kiss, and also his second and third and fourth? that you were the_ only _person he’d ever kissed, and that he’d told you that you were the only person he’d ever_ want _to kiss? did she know that tooru had given you every piece of him, every inch of his skin, and that every secret he could ever withhold had also been shared with_ you? _did she know these things — did she_ want _to know them? likely not._

_“y/n!” the voice belongs to your mother, probably standing at the edge of the gardens because she feared of getting lost within the maze. you couldn’t blame her. you rise, wiping your eyes, trudging toward her. she meets you with open arms, kissing the top of your head and then smoothing down your hair. “tooru is well. he asked about you.”  
_

_“that’s nice.” you feel small in front of her, an ability fit for a queen, and cross your arms over your chest, trying to occupy your thoughts before any more tears spill. today was a happy day for him, and in the past, you’d spent such days in his arms, smiling and laughing. you could’ve never anticipated being ostracized in such a way and spending one of tooru’s happy days on the verge of tears.  
_

_“yes, he was incredibly disappointed that his betrothed was too sick to attend. he’ll still be coming by later today, though. i trust that you won’t be ailing by then.”  
_

he _knew._

once the shock wore off, all of the pieces fell into place; tooru knew from the very first day. his mother had told him of his father’s decision and tooru had decided, for _whatever_ reason, to fight. had he ever truly loved you, like he had told you over and over again? it was hard for you to believe so. if he loved you, why would he have resisted against your arrangement?

were you not good enough for him?

the thoughts overwhelm you, dragging you farther and farther down into an endless void of darkness. no matter how you consider it, you fail to rationalize why tooru would’ve chosen to forsake you. unless...

the idea flashes through your mind for only a moment, but it’s enough to encourage you onto your feet, flinging open the door to your chamber and sending tooru flying backwards. he looks up at you with wide eyes and scrambles onto his feet, reaching for your hands, but you shake your head furiously, slamming the door and stepping back from him.

“your father.” you spit, gauging his expression; his jaw slackens, letting you know that you’re _exactly_ right. “your father, for the _first_ time in your life, made a decision that you agreed with. and so, you decided to _forsake_ me, to toss me aside like some sort of _peasant,_ as some sort of means of rebellion against him. does this ring true, _tooru?”_  


he swallows thickly, still reaching for you. you feel like you’re burning alive, ready to destroy anything in your path — and right now, the only thing close enough to burn with you was oikawa tooru, resident bastard. at his loss of words, you want to slap him. _god,_ you want to hurt him as bad physically as he had hurt you emotionally, but you can’t.

you could _never._

he was no stranger to slaps, to beatings and bruisings and bleeding. you’d experienced enough of the aftermath firsthand, sneaking into his chambers or waiting for him in the gardens and holding him while he cried all night long. as badly as he had hurt you, as badly as you wanted to hurt _him,_ you wouldn’t dream of it. not in this life, nor in any life to come. people shouldn’t hurt those that they love and obviously, tooru had been sick the day that you had learned this lesson.

“you’re despicable.”  


“y/n, please _—_ “ he gets ahold of you, fingers wrapping around your waist, his other hand caressing your cheek. he holds you with an iron grip and backs the both of you up against the wall next to your bed, leaning his forehead against yours while you continue to breathe heavily, refraining from spitting venom no matter how badly you feel it was deserved. “please. i love you, y/n. i _love_ you, more than anything. you _must_ understand this.”  


he leans in to press a kiss against your lips, his fingers tangling in your hair, but you offer nothing in return. even as he moves and parts his lips against you, you just remain, still and with open eyes. his movements become more desperate, but he eventually pulls completely away, pacing around your chambers with his eyes screwed shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “damn this.”

“you can’t _fuck_ your way out of this one, oikawa tooru.”  


“i wasn’t... attempting to do any such thing.”  


you scoff, taking estate on your bed, arms crossing. he eventually stops his pacing, turning to look at you with arms propped on his hips. you’re sure he’s wondering the same as you _— now what?_ you don’t want to believe that you’re at an impasse, that you can’t overcome this, but you’re not quite sure if forgiveness was in the cards, at least right now. “how long until the nuptials?”

“six months’ time.”  


“i hope i can find it in myself to send for you by then.” tooru’s face falls and he attempts to object, calling your name repeatedly, but you turn away from him, watching out of your peripherals as he eventually sighs and retreats without one more word, closing your chamber door behind him.  


the door is barely able to shut before your tears resume, something equivocal to a waterfall falling from your eyes.

with a mere few days to spare, you _do_ find it in yourself to send for tooru. the letter had been drafted well into the fourth month that you had spent without him, but remained unsent for several weeks after that. he, on the other hand, had spared no expense, no fleeting emotion; nearly every day you had received a letter from him. in the beginning, they’d all been apologetic and reeking of desperation. gradually, though, they’d transitioned more into letters that one would send their lover. tooru wrote of the events of his day, the feelings he’d had, memories that had resurfaced (often of the two of you), or anything else that he thought to include each and every night. when being apologetic was no longer the theme of his correspondence with you, you were able to call upon him.

he was at your door within the hour. you had wandered out into the gardens and were in the midst of examining a rose bush when the soft padding of shoes against the grass alerted you of tooru’s presence. you straightened out and turned to face him, tightening your jacket around yourself. the summer was approaching quickly, but there were still a few chilly days of springtime left to be experienced. as the sun lowered in the sky, so too did the temperature lower.

you can see that tooru wants to speak from the expression on his face — cheeks flushed, hair tousled, and lips parted like he had just sprint the fifty mile distance from his castle to yours — but, out of caution, he doesn’t. he wants _you_ to speak first. it’s strange how easily the two of you were able to fall out of comfortable habits; strange, but only in the best of ways.

“have you kept well, tooru?”  


“i love you.”  


you exhale loudly, eyes rolling. he couldn’t even _pretend_ to entertain you, not even for your sake? the shocked, alarmed expression he wore when first approaching you had morphed into one of bashfulness, and it tugs a smile from your lips. that’s when he realizes he must’ve earned you, or just a tiny piece of you, back. “a dialogue is much-needed. i’m sure you agree.”

he does agree and so leads you to bench, clasping your hands in his while listening and speaking earnestly. “you understood my motivations perfectly, and i’m... ashamed. i’m ashamed that i was so predictable, but more so than that, i’m most apologetic for... well, choosing my father over you, one could say.”

“i will _never_ blame you for what isn’t your fault, oikawa tooru.” you let go of one of his hands to reach up and caress his cheek, your thumb rubbing back and forth against the supple surface. “you hurt me deeply, but it was not wholly your blame to have. i understand this now.”  


he twists his face to place a kiss on the pad of your thumb, his eyes fluttering closed. “i will spend this lifetime, and every lifetime that follows, making sure you understand how much i love you. by god’s name, i swear it. if you’ll let me, i’ll even... start my atonement now.”

one of your eyebrows quirk out of curiosity, though you already have a _hint_ of enlightenment at what tooru was alluding to. “what did you have in mind?”  


he takes a long look around the gardens, the gears in his brain visible in the way that his eyebrows are narrowed and he’s speaking to himself, and then at once, he stands, tugging you along with him. after a few steps, he’s pulling you down to the ground, laying you underneath him, one hand smoothing down your hair as he kisses you breathless.

as adolescents, you and tooru had done unspeakable, dangerous things in a way that was characteristic of your relationship — clumsy, yes, but comfortable. soft. sweet. _lovingly._ the way that tooru’s mouth moved against yours, however, wasn’t clumsy; it was sinful, downright. your lips slotted against his perfectly, but things seem to slow down to an impossible pace once he’s licked his way into your mouth, a soft moan escaping his mouth and falling muffled yours. his tongue is doing things you’d only dreamt of, exploring every inch of your mouth, massaging your tongue, and then, when he’s in need of air, tooru pulls away for just long enough to breathe before he begins sucking on your tongue. the noises are absolutely lewd, and if your skin weren’t flushed from desire, they’d be red from the embarrassment of possibly being caught in such a position.

while his fingers card through your hair, his unoccupied hand makes itself useful, running down your figure until it’s reached the hem of your dress and then bunching the fabric on its way back up. feeling a breeze against your bare legs is enough to grab your attention, but tooru doesn’t let that last. he pulls away, a trail of spit following him, his tongue hanging out like he were some kind of panting dog (which, truthfully, wasn’t a far comparison). his feverish lips move to attach to your neck and your back arches in response; damn him for having memorized your body so well that he knew _exactly_ where the sweet spot on your neck was. he hums lowly as he sucks on your neck, not enough to leave a mark but enough to _threaten_ one. meanwhile, his other hand returns to your exposed lower-half, his fingers teasing against the soft flesh of your inner thigh. his long, lithe fingers massage the area, kneading the fat while he licks a stripe up your throat column, his tongue flat and the trail of saliva inviting the cool air to stick to you and make goosebumps rise on your skin.

“i love you.” tooru exhales as he pulls away from you, basking in the moment of peace where you’re still, he’s still (even his roaming fingers), and the world around you has stopped completely. truth be told, tooru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to earn back one more moment with you, much less _this_ kind of moment; he felt like he was drowning without you, constantly underwater and unable to get back up to the surface. he had loved you since you were both eight-years-old. that love, juvenile as it was, was everything to him then, and in time, it evolved as the both of you grew in age and as individuals. suddenly, you were both sixteen and you’d figured out how to trick your parents into allowing you to spend the night in a castle that wasn’t yours, in a country that wasn’t yours, with a boy who _was_ yours in every sense of the word. tooru always fretted about sneaking you in his chamber — what if his parents found out? what if the king used you as an excuse to strike him? — but you were always there to console his worries away.

the consummation of your relationship was during one particularly bad night, when he was in and out of panic attacks. he had never been explicit about the way that the king handled him, but he’d returned wide-eyed and with blossoming bruises running up one of his arms. your usual methods weren’t working, so you did everything in your power to rescue him from the icy waters of numbness that he was dangling above. your lips were feverish, your tongue trailed along every inch of his skin, and once you grasped him through his slacks, you had finally started chipping away at his walls. he gave you moans and breathy “keep going”s but you could tell he was still distant; and finally, you lined him up and sunk yourself down onto him. the pain was immediate, garnering a hiss from you, but tooru was gasping and sputtering, like his head had been held underwater and he was finally being brought back to the surface.  


he fucked you slowly and clumsily, and you didn’t even come _close_ to getting off, but you didn’t do it for yourself, after all. you laid awake for hours after that, sweeping away the damp ends of hair from tooru’s sweaty forehead, silently asking yourself what you _weren’t_ willing to give to oikawa tooru - at this point, though, he’d been gifted every part of you on a silver platter, fit for royals and royals alone. you spent the night rationalizing your actions - you’d been in love with him pretty much since you’d met him, right? and that had been almost eight years prior. plus, you were able to save him from himself tonight.

tooru’s alarm wakes both of you up before sunrise. every morning that you spent the night in secret, he made sure to walk you out, kiss you goodbye in the cover of darkness, see you off as your lady-in-waiting drives the two of you back to your castle, and then embark on a morning jog to deter any suspicion from his parents. if any of the housekeepers or gardeners knew of little secret, they kept their mouths shut, and he was grateful for that.

this morning’s routine differed slightly, however; his goodbye kiss was a little longer, a little softer, a little deeper. when the two of you part, he takes your hands in his, and you almost miss it due to how softly he sighs and says “i love you.” you’re stunned, always knowing the words to ring true but never having heard them out loud before.

from that moment on, however, he made sure to remind you of his love every opportunity that he had, especially including every subsequent rendezvous when he fucked you into his mattress or ate you out like he’d gone weeks without a proper meal.

“i love you,” tooru says again, this time resuming his movements. he whispers it over and over again as he maneuvers himself farther down your body, keeping eye contact even as his fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear and pull them down, fully exposing you to the brisk spring air and, more importantly, _him._ his cheeks are flushed, his hair has been haphazardly tossed around in the wind, and soon enough, he’s dropping his head and licking a stripe up your slit, causing your back to arch involuntarily.  


he throws one arm across your abdomen as he continues to lick you in places that have only ever, and only ever _will,_ belong to him. his eyes flutter shut as he parts your lips with his tongue, challenging himself to collect as much of your slick as he possibly can. he pulls far enough away to spare a few licks to his fingers before he repositions himself, this time two of his fingers rolling against your clit, his tongue all but fully inside of you now. his movements are calm and languid compared to how this type of situation usually transpires - he sometimes like to penetrate you with his tongue alone and lick you until you were dry, or use just his fingers and lick your inner thighs instead to see how responsive you really were to him. this time, though, feels more intimate. your fingers are tangled in his hair, scratching his scalp; the arm that’s been thrown across your body is warm and the hand that’s attached is rubbing softly against your side, and it feels like the two of you have all the time in the world to be present with one another. even in the moments where tooru has you gasping for air and seeing stars, your thoughts don’t rip from him for even a moment. he’s the love of your life in every sense of the phrase, and you’re just the same for him, arranged marriage or not.

eventually, tooru switches so that his fingers are what’s entering you and his feverish lips are on your now-sensitive bud. his lips close around your clit, sucking and tonguing it and teasing his teeth against it every now and then while his two fingers slide up into you, long and lithe and curling once he can’t push them in any farther. the physical stimulation alone is overwhelming, but when you look down and are met with his own eyes, pupils blown out and eyes glassy, it’s too much. you began sputtering, your legs shaking as your orgasm peaks. tooru quickly pulls his sodden fingers out of you and reaches up to shove them into your mouth to keep you quiet, once again placing his tongue against your slit as slurping up every drop of liquid that you excrete. he eats you through your orgasm and you suck yourself off of his fingers to keep yourself quiet - “fuck, you’re gonna get me in trouble.” he’d said after the first time he’d heard you moan. he finally pulls away once he’s sure your orgasm is over, his chin coated in your slick. he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, trails of spit connecting both of his fingers to your lips, and replaces them with his mouth. he kisses you for a couple of reasons, but mainly so that he’s _certain_ you’re able to see how good you taste.

he pulls away from you, using one of his forearms to hold himself up over you. “i want to fuck you so bad,” he sighs, stroking your hair, reveling in the way that your cheeks are flushed and your lips are swollen and parted, words unable to form. he wants to fuck you so bad, and he would’ve, too, had the clock not chimed six, popping the bubble that the two of you had created around yourselves.

“it’s... dinner.” you struggle to push yourself up so he makes sure to aid, pulling your underwear off and tucking them into his pocket, pulling you to your feet. you raise an eyebrow at him. “what purpose will those serve for you?”  


he doesn’t respond, kissing the side of your head instead, looping your arm with his and pacing your retreat back into the castle as slow as he can, not wanting to overexert you or, even worse, have your legs give out. “today marks the first of the rest of our lives together, y/n. how does that make you feel?”

“a life with you?” you pause as if to pretend to think, then lean in against him. “it makes me feel... safe.”  


**Author's Note:**

> cool so i've never written smut before, as mentioned, but it feels like every good fic needs a little bit of smut. i didn't proofread before posting so please just read my mind if something doesn't make sense. thanks for reading <3


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